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Band-Aid Mom

In my early years of mothering, I was against band-aids, in the same way that some people are against bug spray, or vaccinations.  I was ever vigilant on my quest to ‘bust’ band-aid abusers – if only with my self-righteous, judgmental thoughts and smug condescending looks. Throughout the 20^th Century band-aids have fallen into the same category as duct tape and their uses have showcased some of the most creative human minds. Most impressive was a small child who tried to piece together a bug that had been inadvertently harmed (beyond function, but still living), in the fray of a busy playground.  Myself, (not one to be self-righteous in an emergency) I once used band-aids to hold my diffuser onto a hotel blow dryer.

The band-aid was fashioned in 1920 by Earle Dickson, who was a cotton buyer for Johnson & Johnson. He developed the band-aid for his wife, Josephine, who was clumsy and frequently cut herself while working in the kitchen.  Earle, as a new and doting husband, simply wanted to comfort his wife. In my new role as Mom, I turned in another direction.  I was determined to avoid the use of band-aids until absolutely necessary. (Equally utopian were my vows not to allow my child to watch TV, chew gum, or sleep in my bed!) The problem with creating rules in advance is that you really have no idea what is coming.  Despite that, my daughter did not see a band-aid until she was at least three years old.  Truth was, I just didn’t want a child who needed a band-aid for every little boo-boo.  It seemed unnecessary, even wasteful (if not in product, certainly in time).  

That was then. Now (a few kids later) I have band-aids, gauze, antiseptic wipes, Kleenex, suckers and gum in every nook and cranny that we live in and out of.  I would not be caught red-handed without a band-aid!  I have learned a thing or two.

Children have pain beyond what our eyes can see, and

Band-aids are more than just physical objects.

Enter Faven – she is ten and joined our bustling family five months ago, through international adoption.  On an almost daily basis Faven has come to me with some minor hurt that needs attending to. There have been:  tears in the skin at the bottom of her nails, cracked dry skin, canker sores, sore teeth, rashes, bruises, swollen knees, dry and itchy skin, a torn finger nail, a scratch from her sister, a callous, a sore neck, bad hair, AND a blister on her baby toe that warranted her waking me up from a sound sleep at 11:30 at night! There have also been numerous miscellaneous oowey’s that I have been unable to diagnose, with “Mawm ouch!” as the only information that she could give.

Initially, I was perplexed by her numerous demands for attention over such small things, certain that she couldn’t have been this needy in Ethiopia.  But, of course, despite exemplary care by loving, attentive and able caregivers, Faven has been without a mother for some time.  These physical complaints have been quite possible for me to deal with (time, patience and energy notwithstanding).  I not only applied band-aids, lotion, ointment, salt-water gargles, ice & heat, and hair products, in so doing I lavished her in human touch and became her living band-aid.  It has allowed her to be a child, to be attended to and to re-establish a role for herself as someone’s daughter, my daughter. Moreover, according to Vancouver psychologist Dr. Gordon Neufeld, Senses are the first stage of attachment. Regardless of age, our kids need to connect with us through activities that stimulate their senses.  Faven’s demands for momentary attention and healing have been a safe and satisfying way for us to begin the lengthy and step-wise journey of attachment.  Our natural instincts are truly amazing!

Band-aids too, are somewhat amazing; all kids who have access to them want them. What did Earle Dickson put in there anyway? I think he bonded the bits and pieces together with love and the healing power of human touch. It is no coincidence that band-aids are difficult for children to apply by themselves.

Band-aids are often used to hide something we don’t want to look at, cover something that doesn’t feel good or conceal and protect a deeper hurt.  Babies don’t need band-aids; they were created with a certain helplessness that naturally elicits actions of love and protection.  However, as children grow they move outside of their parents protective grasp; a band-aid, lovingly applied will immediately re-connect mother to child.  And when a family, such as ours, is blessed with an older child through adoption, the band-aid not only provides an initial adhesive to bond child to mother, but also creates a route for the new mom to apply herself to her child’s wounds both seen and unseen. Band-aids are a sensory metaphor - they 'aid' us in remembering that to fully experience our humanity, we need a 'band' - a connection to others that affirms in us that we are important.

From the Mouths of Babes

We were driving to school this morning – both girls were crying and yelling at each other, and pleading their cases to me: who was mean, who started it, and how in Ethiopia it’s “not like that!”.  I was doing my darndest to provide empathy and guidance, while driving to school as fast as I possibly could – desperate to avoid further conflict.

There was a brief moment of silence, and Yohannes who is not known to be silent for very long piped up and asked (in all seriousness),

            “Mom, if there was a nose-picking contest, do you think I would win?”

Cheeky, the Crossover Language

Scene: Home from school for lunch

Faven: Mom, please can I have this? (box of Smarties)

Mom: No, you may not have that.

Faven: Mawm!  I’m hungry!

Mom: Faven, if you are still hungry, you may have fruit or vegetables.

Faven: (challenging) Okay… what? 

Mom: There are carrots, oranges, grapes….

Faven: (comes right over to me, face close to mine)  Please, wake up mom, I don’t like grapes.

Mom: (yawning and stretching) Okay, I am awake.

Faven: Mawm – me serious!

Mom: Faven, go to the fridge and show me a grape.

Faven goes to the fridge and takes out a carton of blueberries.

Mom:  Those are blueberries.

Faven looks at them, shrugs her shoulders and puts them back.  Next she pulls out a bag of grapes and holds that up.

Mom: Yes, those are grapes.

Faven: Ohhhhh…. I like grapes.